


Professionalism

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: Ideas from the Kink Machine [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bendy is his little cartoon self, Henry digs it, I know I'm amazed too, Other, blowjob, but he's kind of creepy, idk how to rate consensual things, most of the fic isn't porn though, teefers, this is actually consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: Henry and Bendy have an inappropriate workplace liaison.





	Professionalism

Henry knew it was wrong. God, if he didn’t know it. He had a perfectly lovely fiancee, a job as secure as a man could find in these times (or perhaps a little less, but he wasn’t one to dwell). He had a cozy little home and some plans in the making to bring home a little girl or boy. He was _satisfied_ with his life, or so he had thought. 

Recent events, though… they had him hunting through his memories, searching what he thought he knew, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong in his head. Where he was dissatisfied or stressed enough to think the things he was thinking. Because something was very, very wrong with him. 

It started with the Ink Machine. For a while, Henry thought the device was nothing more than another of Joey’s reckless ideas that would never pan out to be anything (Joey was full of them, and Henry sometimes felt he existed only to temper them). The machine spat out blob after blob of formless, lifeless ink. Abominations that died shortly after they were born. The failures weighed on Joey so much that the studio owner halted work on the machine for several weeks (Henry privately prayed that Joey would just drop the matter entirely) and heavily re-considered the mechanics of it. 

Henry didn’t know what sort of ideas Joey returned from this venture with, but whatever they were, they… amazingly… _worked_. 

Joey proudly marched in Henry’s office one day, hand in hand with a little round creature that in every way and manner imitated the Bendy that Henry had designed. 

Henry was astonished. Speechless.

Bendy had wrung his tail in his hands, smiled shyly at Henry, and murmured, “hullo, creator.” Henry could do nothing but stare in disbelief at first, until Joey prompted him,

“Well, aren’t you gonna say something, Henry! He’s your own character, brought to life!”

Amid a waterfall of questions_, _Henry collapsed to his knees and held out his arms. Bendy bounced over and embraced him, nuzzling his cheek to Henry’s, and squeezing Henry’s sides. 

It was incomprehensible. But Bendy was now a walking, talking copy of his animated self. He was even made of ink. Everything about him was remarkable. 

Every time Henry saw Bendy for a full two weeks, he was amazed and in disbelief afresh, as if his brain hadn’t quite caught up with the idea this was actual _reality_. 

Sometimes Bendy sat on his lap, or sat beside him to draw, during which times Henry couldn't get over the fact he was _made_ of ink. Bendy didn’t need to eat or sleep or breathe. But he managed to be so vivacious, so _alive_, nonetheless. He was filled to the brim with curiosity, always wanting to learn new things, see new things. He took to drawing immediately, and never passed any opportunity to “help” Henry with his cels. He was so absolutely real, and had such a vivid personality. It blew Henry away. And once he began to grow accustomed to the idea that Bendy really did exist, it.. gave him such a thrill to see Bendy, and know it was his character, his creation, brought to life. Not to the screen, but to reality. It was an honor no artist had known before him.

“I just can’t imagine how you did it,” Henry told Joey in awe more than once. 

“The machine is a powerful tool!” Joey answered, or he answered in some equally vague manner that left Henry only more mystified. 

A few weeks after creating Bendy, a Boris arrived, and then an Alice. While Henry loved both creations, Bendy kept a special place in his heart. 

There was just something that made Bendy different from the others. Bendy seemed to have…. A greater range of personality. That was a strange way to put it, and Henry wasn’t sure it was true, but he _felt_ it. Boris and Alice were lovely, and very nice, but both seemed in some way shackled to the personalities of their ancestor characters. They both seemed _stuck, _unable to develop past following some script. 

Bendy, though - he was unpredictable. A force of chaos, even. 

Under Henry’s tutelage, he continued to grow his talent in drawing. He also gained an interest in the outside world, and while Joey forbade the little demon from ever leaving, Henry was happy to share stories of places he had visited, sights he had seen. It wasn’t long after his creation that Bendy took to pranking the workers of the studio, too, causing all kinds of mischief.

Oftentimes he’d run in after committing some minor crime, and then he’d skitter underneath Henry’s desk, lifting a finger to his lips and winking. 

Folks would crash through the door, hair a-fray, looking for the demon. 

Henry stood up for him every time. “I haven’t seen him, no…”After a couple times, it turned into something more elaborate, “perhaps he ran that way?” Or “Are you sure it was really him? You know how clumsy you can be…”

At first Henry used to give Bendy stern looks, and remind him that he shouldn't torment people so. But Bendy was bored, there was no denying that. The poor demon had little to do in the studio - his energy and curiosity far exceeded what was allotted to him here. Over time, Henry became more sympathetic to Bendy’s trickster ways. Soon enough people were storming out of Henry’s office, and Henry would cast Bendy a sly look, _so you got someone good, huh?_ And Bendy would return with an absolutely wicked and wild expression. 

“You’re truly devilish,” Henry told him once as Bendy, now safe, crawled up into Henry’s lap and settled himself down.

“Yer th’one that drew me as a demon,” Bendy reminded. 

Henry snorted and stroked down Bendy’s back. It never ceased to amaze him, the way Bendy felt under his hands. Neither liquid nor solid. It was fascinating, though also unnerving. There was, in truth, a lot of unnerving things about Bendy. 

Despite how much Henry liked him, he had to admit Bendy sometimes did frightening things. For example, he could turn his teeth into sharp little pinpricks, and he often did this to scare or startle people. 

And then there were his actions, which also could be… unsettling. He really liked touching Henry, _particularly_ Henry. He liked sitting on his lap, tugging on his clothes, hugging him - but it wasn’t limited to things like that. Sometimes if Henry was absorbed in drawing, and Bendy was relaxing with him, the demon’s hands would wander. Petting his arms. His sides. 

“You touch me all the time,” Bendy pointed out when Henry asked what he was doing. “Dont’cha think yer just as fascinatin’ to me?”

That did make sense. Henry was in awe of Bendy’s ink body: Bendy had to be fascinated by Henry’s human one. It didn’t explain why Bendy only got so touchy over Henry, but hey, the demon did like Henry best, and probably just felt most comfortable around him. Henry couldn't help enjoying the idea that, just as Bendy was his favorite, Henry was Bendy’s favorite. That the demon liked him above all the others in the studio. 

Of course, sometimes… often… Bendy would touch places normal people wouldn’t. 

In those cases, Henry would jerk away, an electric shiver running up from the touch, and Bendy would smile at him darkly like he knew something. That sort of look on Bendy… it scared him, a little, but it also was… thrilling. Henry passed it off as inexperience. After all, he had only ever loved Linda, and he had very little experience, even with Linda. Stray touches were sure to be stimulating, no matter the situation. He told Bendy to stop, the very first time he did it. Told him it wasn’t appropriate, not to touch people there. 

Bendy replied he wouldn't touch anyone else there, and Henry was too overwhelmed to say anything else. It happened more and more, and Henry couldn't figure out why he wouldn't stand up to the demon, why he wouldn't make it clear that kind of behavior wasn’t okay. 

It made Henry uncomfortable. But that wasn’t the only sort of emotion it invoked. 

“I only care about you,” Bendy whispered to him once, late at night while Henry was stuck finishing up cels. 

It occurred to Henry at some point he was spending increasing amounts of time with Bendy, rather than any other actual human in the studio. That even when he was home, he was thinking about Bendy. That Bendy’s whispers often rung in his head long after he’d left the studio. 

“I think we’ve really got somethin’ special. Creator and creation.”

“You’re always so warm, Henry.”

“Sometimes I like ya so much I wanna crush your ribcage.”

“What?” Henry had said that time, and Bendy just laughed. 

“I’m just bein’ silly, Henry.”

Bendy could be so so direct and yet so elusive. It left Henry oddly wanting more. 

That’s when the dreams started. 

When Henry’s mind started wandering at work in ways it shouldn’t. 

When he started seeing Bendy very, very differently. 

It was screwed up. Twisted. Perverted. If Bendy was the innocent character that he was supposed to be, Henry probably could have shoved down his deviant feelings and never let them see the light of day. 

But Bendy… Bendy was far from innocent himself, and he seemed more than aware of Henry’s perception change. He liked to sit in Henry’s lap more often, and he wiggled and squirmed in ways that had to be deliberate.

He smiled in that coy, teasing way of his, and he murmured sick things in Henry’s ears. Things that became more and more direct. Using words Henry didn’t know how he had learned. 

Henry was beginning to grasp that Bendy was, well and truly, a demon. He’d been masquerading as a creature simply mischievous and naughty, but in reality, Henry was certain the demon had to have been sent from Satan himself. To tempt him, corrupt his soul. God damn if it wasn’t working. Not all of the guilt in the world could stop Henry from wanting him. All it did was torment him, endlessly. 

Once, after hours, Bendy was sitting on his lap again, and despite all Henry’s willpower, he couldn’t help his stiffening cock. He couldn’t even tell Bendy to get off. 

The demon kept throwing back mischievous looks. 

Henry wasn’t getting any work done, and he hated himself for the fact he craved the demon (Linda, god, poor Linda, she was at home, thinking he was staying late just to work… and he was _supposed_ to be working…)

Henry chewed his lip. “You know a lot more than you let on, don’t you?”

“Humans are easier t’manipulate when they think yer innocent.”

It was a concerning statement, but oddly, when Henry heard it, the only thing he worried about was, “are you manipulating me?”

Bendy looked over his shoulder. His lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. “In a different way than everyone else. I like you, Henry.”

Henry absolutely should have been worried, but his breath caught in his throat. Bendy’s tail was shifting over his thigh and it was doing things to him he didn’t want to dwell on.

“How much… do you know?”

“You wanna find out?”

“Do I?” Henry whispered hoarsely. 

“Oh yeah.” Bendy hopped off his lap so fast that Henry was confused. 

“Wait, whu-?”

Bendy slunk under his chair and popped back up between his legs. The demon’s gloved hands shoved Henry’s knees apart; the animator sucked in air sharply.

“What are you doing?”

“Bet Linda doesn’t do this, huh?” With that, Bendy was undoing Henry’s pants. 

“Stop, _stop_-“ Henry tried to pull Bendy off, but ink slithered around his wrists and pulled them to the side. He didn’t even know where it was coming from - it was as if the substance was oozing straight from the floorboards. 

Henry panted. He didn’t like that Bendy had brought up Linda. She… she deserved far better than him. God, she deserved a man that would love her unconditionally, a man who… who wouldn't let a demon do this to himself…

Henry squirmed in the inky clutches, but he was well and truly helpless. He could almost convince himself he didn’t want this. But despite the guilt churning in his stomach, the erection Bendy tugged from his pants was swollen and thick. 

He couldn't deny the sick twist of pleasure in his stomach when he saw Bendy’s grinning face regarding his need.

“This all for me, Henry?” He cooed. 

Henry’s heart was pitter-pattering rapid fire like a hummingbird’s wings. He shouldn’t let this happen. He should do everything in his power to stop Bendy. Instead, he shakily uttered, “Yes.” 

Bendy laughed. “Wow, not so modest anymore!”

Henry looked away, his cheeks blazing hot from embarrassment. He shouldn't want this. At all. “Stop,” he said. “Bendy, please, we shouldn't do this - you’re -“ Henry could have laughed at the absurdity. Bendy was a cartoon character. His own goddamn creation. 

“You’re my creator,” Bendy said. A sinuous forked black tongue presses to the base of Henry’s cock, and drags all the way up to the tip, flicking at the end like he’s licking a dessert.

God damn if that didn’t turn Henry on more. 

This was messed up. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn’t… shouldn't let Bendy do this to him. But he was frozen, half in arousal, half in guilt and fear, while Bendy slid Henry’s entire length deep into his mouth. There he paused for one moment, his eyes peering up at Henry while his tiny mouth was crammed as full as it could be with Henry’s throbbing arousal. It was shocking Henry even _fit._

It shook Henry more to find just how sultry Bendy could look with a dick snugly couched in his throat, his mouth stretched around it. He wasn’t even choking. And it was so tight.

“We shouldn’t-“ Henry whimpered, as if he could possibility walk away from this and still be considered morally okay, normal, sane. He was already far past that point. 

Bendy seemed to read the futilely of Henry’s protest, and his eyes fluttered shut. He settled his hands more comfortably on Henry’s thighs, and then began to bob his head rhythmically. 

Henry groaned. His hips involuntarily jutted up while his hands clenched on the edges of his seat. More. More. He chased the sensation of Bendy’s mouth pumping around his cock, his tongue flicking over Henry’s flushed head. His reaction was instinctive, immediate.

Unconsciously one of his hands leapt to Bendy’s horns, forcing Bendy to keep his head still while Henry arched his back and thrust into his mouth. 

Bendy ripped away, like liquid sifting through Henry’s fingers, and then Henry’s cock, dripping with thick globs of black ink, was left neglected. 

“No, please,” Henry begged weakly. 

Bendy licked his lips. “Yer awful impatient, creator. Oh, what would Linda think of ya?” 

His glittering eyes were cruel while Henry’s guilt surged back.

“Or,” Bendy continued, stroking one teasing finger down Henry’s length (Henry bucked needily, unfulfilled), “Ya keep pleading t’God, Henry, but what would _He_ think?”

“Stop-“ Henry squirmed, sweat collecting at his shirt collar. 

“Stop what, Henry? Stop makin’ ya have the time of yer life? Or…” a coy smile. “Stop talkin’ so that you can get to comin’ without all that guilt?”

Henry made an undignified noise. Bendy had him in the palm of his hand. Always knew how to play him, to toy with him. Henry wanted nothing more than for Bendy to keep touching him, but… this was wrong. Depraved. He should have eyes only for Linda. He should be a proper man. 

Instead, he couldn’t help but to gaze at Bendy with lidded eyes and imagine the little devil getting him off. He was in deep. Snared, hook, line and sinker. He wanted the demon to take him apart.  
  
“Wow Henry,” Bendy teased, “that look would get ya thrown in a cage, ya animal.”

Henry blinked, startled, and tried to rearrange his expression to have more composure. 

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Bendy winked. He then opened his mouth wide, ink dripping from his lips. Except there was one thing different now. 

Henry’s back slicked to the chair, his eyes going round. Teeth. Lots and lots of little pointy teeth were crammed in Bendy’s mouth. 

“Wait- wait-“

Those teeth enveloped Henry’s most delicate area and Henry’s sucked in a sharp breath. One wrong move and he could lose his manhood. 

“C-Careful-“ he urged hoarsely. 

The teeth were held carefully, just so, without touching him, so only the head of his cock was massaged with the back of Bendy’s mouth. 

It took an astonishing amount of trust, and Henry was amazed at himself that, despite the precarious situation, he relaxed, and let out a shaky, pleasure-rich sigh. He trusted Bendy. He didn’t know if it was a good idea, didn’t know if Bendy was even trustworthy. But… he wholeheartedly trusted the demon. He merely had to surrender control.

Henry forced aside his guilt. His head tilted back. His legs spread wider. 

Low moans rumbled from his chest as slick, lewd noises filled his ears. His hips rolled involuntarily, and for a petrifying second, those teeth touched his skin. The fear sent electric pleasure ratcheting up his spine. He was absolutely playing with fire. And he loved it. Distantly, he knew he was still the studio. Knew anybody could see him. And knew he was fucking a demon. But with his cock being tenderly manipulated, all those things only served to further arouse him. 

_Let me be seen_, he thought daringly, and nearly cringed from the intensity of the thought. It was such a blisteringly hot sensation, so much better to accept. Forget guilt. Forget feeling bad. This - this was meant to be. So let people see. Let people know he was wicked and sinful, consorting with a demon like this. Let them know he was owned by his own creation. 

Henry came hard to that thought. Mid-climax, he nearly lost his mind when Bendy closed his lips around him (those sharp sharp teeth pressing hard to his flesh), and seemingly drank his cum out of him, like the demon was starving for the sticky liquid. Swiftly the sensation became overwhelming and, shaking uncontrollably, Henry struggled to disengage himself.

“A-ah, Bendy, s-stop-"

With a satisfied _pop!_ Bendy released Henry’s softening length and swallowed. Smirking, he wiped his lips. “Liked that, ya pervert?”

Henry was left panting, his sweaty body aching from straining in the hard wood chair. But he felt tingly, content. Sated. Yes. God yes, he’d loved that. 

He didn’t verbally reply, but Bendy seemed to understand, based on his absolutely mischievous expression. 

“So,” Bendy said, “what was all that ‘bout ‘we shouldn’t do this’?”

They shouldn’t have. Because now that they had… Henry knew he’d need it again, desperately. 

Henry slumped forward. His hand tiredly reached out and rubbed one of Bendy’s horns. “We can’t tell anyone,” he said, already knowing in the pit of his stomach there’d be another time. This was dangerous. Risky. But damn if he didn’t want it.

“You got it, creator.”


End file.
